


Fairwinds and Following Anxieties

by RaernS



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alcohol, Coming Out, Groping, M/M, Mutual Pining, gratuitious kissing, i done did my best, im of the opinion that magic can work just like hormones, im terrible at writing make out scene im sorry, might be updated with some actual smut, minor dysphoria, so thats why our roguish boi has a 'stach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-05-01 17:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19182364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaernS/pseuds/RaernS
Summary: You've been lusting after one wily ex-smuggler since you set foot in Boralus, but you have a secret that you've worked hard at keeping that way that just might come between you. But, what if Mr Fairwind has more experience in that department than you realize?





	Fairwinds and Following Anxieties

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [malereaderinsertscollection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/malereaderinsertscollection) collection. 



> Written to satisfy a prompt claim, but I might be convinced to take it a bit further into truly mature/explicit rated territory. There's not enough trans characters in WoW, imho.
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> maaaaan I just want a trans!reader fic where he comes out as trans to his crush and then his crush comes back out to him as trans too is that too much to ask

You grumble under your breath as you elbow your way through a plethora of the Alliance’s champions. By the Light, there were so many  _ people _ in Boralus now-a-days. Head down, you beeline it for the only decent meadery in Tradewinds District that wasn’t overrun by dozens upon dozens of draenei, humans, elves, gnomes and dwarves. Especially dwarves. You weren’t in the mood to deal with drunken dwarves today.

It’s a small, hole in the wall sort of establishment, and so far as you could tell, it was mostly ignored by locals and tourists alike. The man behind the counter nods solemnly to your entrance, and you make your way up to the bar, taking the furthest seat to the right.

“What’ll it be for ye, then?”

You pause, rolling your shoulders forward ever so slightly, hunching over yourself as you open your throat, seeking out the gruffest voice you can manage. There’s another thing you didn’t want to deal with today. Getting ‘ma’am’ed.

“Ale.” The word comes out with a satisfactory husky tone, though your blasted vocal chords seem to want to fight you today, and you let out an involuntary cough. You probably sound like you’re sick, now. Great.

The barman nods, turning and picking up a pint tankard to fill from one of the kegs behind the counter. He places it in front of you and swipes up the coins you leave on the countertop in trade. The dry, cool liquid eases the scratch in your throat and you sigh contently before looking absently behind the counter. Just a drink or two, and then hopefully off to bed before anyone else bugs you today.

“Woah-ho! If it isn’t the Champion!” You tense, a chill shooting through your spine as you instantly recognize the cheery, almost teasing voice coming from the entrance of the bar just seconds before one wily, ex-smuggler clasps you heavily on the shoulder. “What’s got you all clenched up here, drinking alone?”

You close your eyes as you drain about half of your glass, trying desperately not to shudder with the man so close to you. As you lower your mug, your eyes glide over to catch a glimpse of his cheeky grin, though… is that concern you spy in his jade-like eyes? You shrug his arm off your shoulder. “Just a long day,” you mutter, not fully trusting yourself to try to pull off gruff  _ and _ loud.

Flynn Fairwind grins back at you as he takes a seat beside you at the bar. He lets out a low whistle, glancing at the barman. “I’ll take a bit of whatever he’s having,” he starts, tilting his head towards you in indication. You feel your heart clench just a bit with the pronoun use in warmth, before the feeling is ushered away by a wave of anxiety. Fucking  _ great _ .

The barman fills another tankard and passes it to your newfound companion as you proceed to hide your face in your mug, suddenly self-conscious about your features. Flynn takes a long drink from his own ale as you watch him out of the corner of your eye. His Adam’s apple sliding up and down his throat with each swallow has you equal parts jealous and aroused.  _ What am I, just some horny teenager? _ You force your eyes to focus on the wooden paneling behind the bar, trying to count the individual grains as you shift uncomfortably.

If the roguish sailor notices your discomfort, he doesn’t mention it, planting his tankard on the counter with a content sigh. “Ah, that’s the good stuff… So, oh grumpy Mc-grumppants, you want to talk about what’s got your pants all up in a bunch, or should I just regale you with fanciful tales of the sea?” You look over to him just in time to catch his wink and you can’t stop the snort from escaping you.

“Is there a third option that includes you leaving me alone?” you drawl softly, though a large part of you is hoping the fiendish man won’t leave.  _ Because I’m a masochist, obviously. _

Flynn chuckles happily, cracking a beautiful - no, wait,  _ infuriating _ \- smirk. “I have a personal vendetta against letting people drink alone.” He pauses briefly with a thoughtful look. “Unless it’s myself. But, you’re not me, so no… no third option, sorry.” There’s that blasted smirk again.

You sigh heavily, raising your mug to your lips yet again only to find the damn thing empty. You stifle a groan before gesturing at the barman with your tankard, only to find a fresh refill sitting in front of you. Right, you forgot the main reason you liked it here wasn’t the emptiness, but the impeccable service. You switch mugs, letting the man take the empty while you practically chug the refill, setting it back down in front of you with just about a quarter left.

Flynn quirks an eyebrow at you, before gesturing to his mustache. “You’ve got a bit of head on your lip.”

“ _ What _ ?!”

The ex-smuggler’s laughter almost taunts you, but at the same time, you find yourself wanting to hear it again and again. It seems to almost caress your eardrums, and you desperately hope the feeling of warmth is from what you’ve been drinking and not a blush.

“Your lip… got some head on it from the ale.”

_ Oh. _ You hastily wipe your upper lip with the back of your hand, now certain that you are definitely blushing. You quickly look away from the alluring - no,  _ irritating _ man seated beside you and swallow past a lump in your throat.  _ I need to get out of here _ .

“Aw, I was gonna get that for you.” Flynn sounds almost sad as he picks up his drink for another swig, waggling his brows back at you when you shoot him an incredulous glare. You let out a huff as heat rises to your face and ears once again. Oh, he was flirting with you now. Even better.

“Well, since you won’t leave me alone, I guess I’ll just have to leave early,” you mutter as you stand, draining the remainder of your mug and leaving it on the counter next to some more coins. You turn and make your way towards the door as Flynn jumps up to follow behind you.

“Let me walk you back to your room, eh?”

You let out another grumble, glancing at the Kul Tiran out of the corner of your eye. As much as you should be telling him off, you can’t deny that you enjoy him being so close to you as he walks alongside you with a cheerful whistle. So close, his hand almost brushes your own. You shove yours into your pocket to avoid that whole situation right then and there.

You both walk in relative silence, apart from the ex-smuggler’s whistling, until eventually you realize you haven’t the slightest idea of where you are. You were so caught up in his presence beside you that you had lost your way back to the inn you were staying at. Your steps hesitate for a moment, and Flynn glances at you with a raised brow. “Something wrong, chap?”

“I..”  _ Shit _ , you think as your voice cracks, and you clear your throat. “I took a wrong turn.”

Flynn grins back at you. “Oops. Where was it that you’re staying? I can lead the way back.”

You grumble the name of the inn out softly, and the Kul Tiran nods, promptly stepping off down a side alley. “Right this way! ‘S a short cut!” he calls over his shoulder at you. You follow after him skeptically, frowning as you realize how much this all was starting to seem like a poorly written romance novel. That said, you can’t help yourself from lowering your gaze to catch a gracious eyeful of his behind. You find yourself thankful that he wasn’t wearing his customary overcoat.

After a minute or two, you realize you’ve been staring at his ass… and he knew it, too. You let out a soft sound of alarm at yourself as you look away, causing him to laugh ahead of you as he slowed down his pace just enough for you to catch up. “You know, if you want to see more, you only need to ask,” he stated conspiratorially, his voice dropping into ‘bedroom voice’ territory. You feel your cheeks heat up in a blush and adamantly stare to the side, suddenly very interested in counting the clotheslines between buildings.

Flynn lets out a sigh, the first time you’ve actually seen any sign of his flippant manner shift. You look over at him questioningly. “What?”

“You know, you’re such a strange one, Champion.” He stopped and looked over at you with a slight frown of confusion. “You act like you’re interested, blush when I flirt with you, but you don’t actually act on it. Is this some kind of main-lander hang up, or am I just not really your cup of tea?”

“No, that’s not it!” you blurt out hurriedly, before blushing a deep crimson. You glance away to the ground.

A warm, calloused hand gently rests on your face, urging your gaze back towards light green irises full of concern. “Then what’s the problem, chap?” Flynn asks quietly as his thumb just barely rubs against your jaw, his words sounding compassionate and open.

You swallow harshly as you search every bit of his face for any sign of how to proceed. You can feel your heart galloping in your chest, your knees shaking ever so slightly, and your core positively  _ ablaze _ . He was  _ touching _ you.  _ Touching! _ You feel the urge to just press against him, kiss him, hug him,  _ anything _ , but you’re frozen still in fear. Still, that rough thumb rubs against your smooth jawline, and you force yourself to swallow again. A kiss couldn’t hurt, could it? Your eyes fall on his lips as you continue to try to rationalize yourself into action.

Flynn seems to notice your desires before you can bring up the courage to act upon them, and he leans in, pressing his lips to yours gently. They’re soft, sweet with just the hint of alcohol to them, and his mustache tickles your nose in a not entirely unpleasant way. You swallow back a soft sound in your throat as he pulls away, smirk on his face. “Not so bad, eh?”

You stand there, dumbfounded, with his hand still cradling the side of your face, for what feels like an eternity before you nod slightly. Before you know it, you push back against him, crashing your lips against his in a feverish kiss, causing him to groan slightly in surprise. Your hands grasp at his torso as you nip and suckle at his lower lip, pressing the Kul Tiran back up against one of the building walls making up the alleyway you found yourselves in. He groans again as his hand slides backwards into your hair, entangling his fingers within it as he kisses you back. His tongue whisks across your lips and you tentatively grant him access. Warm, slick muscles entwine and you hear a soft, higher pitched noise. Did that come from you? You can't tell, so engrossed in all that is this man before you. The slight tangy scent of rum and ale and the sea, the warm, tight torso that you've pressed against as if it were the only thing tying you to Azeroth.  _ Titans… _

This was everything you ever envisioned, the closeness, the heat, the  _ intimacy _ that you had brought yourself to shuddering climax to for months now, and there isn't a damn thing that could make you pull away.

_ Except for that. _

You pull away, your left hand quickly grabbing his wrist as you feel his hand cup your crotch. You hastily pray to every divine being you can think of that the rolled up sock stuffed in the front of your underwear was firm enough to be believable. " _ Don't! _ " you hiss angrily.

Flynn blinks back at you, looking utterly too  _ adorable _ with his slightly tousled hair, flushed features, hazy green eyes. He blinks again before licking his lips. "What's wrong, luvie?"

You swallow harshly, struggling to hold his gaze.  _ This is  _ **_not_ ** _ how I wanted to do this. _ Your mouth is substantially dry, the complete antithesis of the proverbial waterfall between your legs, and you lick your lips, trying to force words past them.

"I-... Th-there's… I…"

His gaze softens as his hand returns to its initial place along the side of your face, those calloused fingers caressing your soft skin with surprising gentleness. "It's okay, luv… take your time and let it out."

"... I'm… not like you."

An auburn eyebrow shoots upward, accompanied by a sly smirk. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

Finally, you can't sustain his gaze any longer, and your eyes drop to the damaged flagstones at your feet. Your hands tighten around his hips - when had you let go of his wrist? You aren't sure.

"I… I… don't have a cock."

There's a beat of silence. Then… Laughter?

"Oh, shit! You had me worried there for a second, Champion." You blink, your eyes wide with surprise, then a tremor of self-doubt travels across your body, making itself known in the furrow of your brow.  _ He… he knew… I didn't pass. _

Hands grasp the sides of your face, cradling your jaw with fervent care. "Hey… don't look like that…" His voice is soft, gentle… reassuring. "Ain't no one going to question your manliness, luv. You're still a bloke, trust me." Piercing green eyes of sincerity lock on yours. "You are  _ perfect _ , just the way you are. And I still want all of that, got me?"

You blink slowly, and that same sincere look is still there. Your throat clenches.  _ He doesn't care. _ You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and your shoulders shake. Hot tears roll down your cheeks unbidden, only to be wiped away by the most gentle thumbs you have ever felt. But still… the doubt is still there.

"How… how did you know?"

Flynn chuckles softly, leaning forward to kiss you gently, pulling away slightly as his right hand finds your left, and he guides you to his own crotch, pressing his hand over yours until you're flush with his body. Where you imagined a rock hard bulge, instead… you find nothing but the curve of his pelvis.

  
"Cuz you  _ are _ like me, luvie."


End file.
